Remember, Johnny
by Leria006
Summary: He knows the horror of a future lost. He must find the strength to prevent that horror from coming true.
1. Falling

Okay, I got the idea for this story years ago and have fiddled with it ever since. I was inspired by some other fics I read but unfortunately I couldn't find them again in order to give recognition. I thnk I made this different enough from any other story of a similar kind. I hope so anyway. I tried not to steal anything.

I should say that my knowledge of the Fantastic Four is strictly movieverse with some odd snippets gleaned from the internet. My characters are as true to the movie as I could get them.

There is one more part. It is finished and will be posted shortly. I just wanted to get a feel for how the story was recieved.

I own nothing. Just some pocket dragons that don't come into play here.

Enjoy

* * *

"Remember, Johnny. Remember," Reed whispers into Johnny's ear.

"Reed, what are you talking about?" Johnny tries to twist so he can see the scientist, but the strap around his chest prevents him. He looks down at himself, confusion evident in his blue eyes. He doesn't remember being strapped down.

"You'll see, Johnny. Just remember everything, and you'll see." Reed shifts to a set of controls just outside Johnny's vision.

"What are you doing? We have to get out! He's coming. Reed, he's…"

"I know, but it's too late. I'm sorry I don't have time to explain, but this is our last chance to set things right. It's up to you. I'm sorry but it has to be you."

"Reed, they'll… Can't lose you, too." Though the anguish in Johnny's voice cuts him to the core, Reed pauses only a moment before returning to the controls. Sounds from the other side of the laboratory door bode ill for both of them.

Johnny struggles weakly to free himself, but injury and exhaustion overpower him. When Reed is finally ready, he stands over Johnny, clasps his hand, and stares him straight in the eyes.

"I've been working on this as a backup plan for years. I'm sorry, but I wasn't sure I could ever get it to work and didn't want to give you false hope. Now it's our only chance, but you have to go alone. I have to stay and make sure they can't follow."

"What? Reed?"

"No. Johnny, listen. We don't have much time. I need you to know how honored I am to have you as a friend and brother. I love you, Johnny Storm. Remember me." Reed checks the wound and prays his plan will include at least some healing.

"Reed, please…" Johnny calls out, straining to reach for his friend. Reed's downward gaze is sad, but determined. Slowly, he reaches into his pocket, pulls a metal string out, and reverently places it around Johnny's neck.

"Reed."

"Remember. Just remember." Reed Richards places a gentle kiss on Johnny's forehead, stretches one arm to the controls, and flips the switch. If Johnny was going to say anything else, the words are lost as pressure begins to build in his chest.

His back arches. His mouth opens wordlessly. Reed holds his gaze; one hand reaches out, but stops just short of actual touch. The pressure increases, and soon Johnny's vision begins to gray.

Sound is muted. Soon he can hear nothing. For as long as he can, Johnny looks straight back at Reed, memorizing him once more. Reed looks so much older to him than his 80-plus years.

When the pressure becomes so intense he's sure he'll burst, he loses sight as well as sound.

Then he is falling.

* * *

He is cold.

The uncomfortable thought enters his mind unbidden. He can't remember the last time he was cold.

This probably has something to do with being the Human Torch. It's hard to get cold when you can command fire. Nonetheless, he is cold. Why?

Slowly, his mind scans his other senses: grit under his cheek, light shining through his eyelids, water rushing close by, wind whistling through leaves.

Wait, he is outside? But he's inside with Reed. Isn't he?

His eyes snap open as recent events flood his consciousness. Galvanized into action, he attempts to gain his feet, Reed's name bursting from his lips, but he only collapses in a painful coughing fit. He lies half submerged in water, waiting until he can breathe without too much agony before carefully sitting up.

He squints at his surroundings, frowning. They are familiar. He isn't sure why, but at least now he has the answer to the troubling question of why he is cold. He has been lying in the bend of a swift, ice-cold river. He notices dark stains in the sand beneath him.

Blood loss. As his mind makes the connection, he looks down, expecting to see the eight-inch gash in his suit. He blinks. There is a gash there and definite blood stains. That much makes sense. The damage is not, however, as extensive as he remembers. He'd been hurt pretty badly by the time he'd stumbled back to Reed, exposing their last remaining hideout. Gingerly, he pokes his fingers through the fabric, wincing from contact with the warm tender skin just beginning to heal. The cut is barely half as long as it once was.

"What is this?" he murmurs, shivering slightly as he struggles to stand and escape the heat-leaching water. "Reed, what have you done?" He runs one hand through his hair, not entirely surprised when he finds the hairline sooner than he should.

"A mirror. I need a mirror." With this declaration he takes his first halting step away from the river, then a second, and a third. He is forced to pause when his side begins to burn from the exertion, but at least the movement doesn't start the wound bleeding again.

Even more slowly, he scrambles up the bank and heads into the woods, toward a path he can see ahead of him. It is obviously well traveled, something which can mean trouble. Being out in the open, injured and confused, is dangerous for anyone, but doubly so for one of the final two members of the Fantastic Four. Doom has eyes everywhere.

He is not sure what Reed has done to him, not sure if his sudden appearance in this light-filled forest means he is beyond reach. He is starting to formulate a few theories, though. A couple are downright absurd, but one or two might be speculation in the right direction. However, he will wait until he has more information before concluding anything. He has always been the most impulsive member of the group, but time and experience has taught him the importance of thinking at least a little before leaping.

As soon as he reaches the path, he pauses, scrutinizing his surroundings more closely and trying to figure out why it is so familiar. He glances both ways down the path, trying to pinpoint what exactly is bothering him.

_Besides everything_, he thinks despondently, randomly choosing a direction and shuffling forward.

"So what did you do?"

"What do you think? I decked him."

_What?_ Johnny stops dead at the sound of two voices, both young. They sound too happy and carefree to be any of Doom's people. Then again, they sound too happy and carefree _not_ to be some of Doom's people. The implications of what he is hearing lends more credence to one of his more practical theories, as far as any of them are practical.

He is just realizing he should get off the path and out of sight when the unknown people round the corner. All three of them freeze for a few comical seconds before speaking at once.

"Oh. My. God."

"No way man."

"Uh, hi."

Johnny stares at two young men, the older appearing to be just shy of twenty. They share the same light brown eyes and curly black hair and are wearing identical expressions of shock. _Brothers._ Johnny tries to think of something to say, even as he searches for the strength to flee.

"You're the Human Torch. I can't tell you how much I've wanted to meet you," the younger of the two gushes, rushing forward before Johnny can react and grasping his hand, pumping it vigorously. Johnny manages to smile tightly and not groan as the violent motion yanks at his side. The kid is still talking, but Johnny is too busy staying upright to hear what he's saying.

"Yo Scott, back off," the older one speaks up, interrupting his brother in mid flow.

"Huh? What, Luke?" Scott sputters, not releasing his grip on Johnny's hand. Luke peers straight at Johnny. He doesn't bother to speak, just disentangles their hands. He places one arm around the Torch's waist and the freed arm across his own shoulders.

"Um, what…"

"You're hurt, Mr. Torch, and we don't live that far from here. We'll get you fixed up and back to the rest of the Fantastic Four before dinner."

"Oh my God, you are hurt," Scott blurts when he recovers from his brother's interruption. He begins to lead them back in the direction from which they just came, heedlessly ignoring the half-formed protests coming from Johnny.

Before Johnny really knows what is going on, the brothers are leading him into a small, cozy house at the end of a rather long driveway with no neighbors in sight. They bring him to a full-sized bathroom and immediately get to work: setting out clothes, a towel, and the first aid kit; starting the shower; and placing a glass of water next to some pain meds. It's all laid out before Johnny is properly aware.

Luke insists on checking the wound before letting Johnny step into the shower. Already, it is steaming up the room, and the warmth is a relief. Johnny still hasn't recovered from his dunk in the river and the blood loss. Luke gently eases off the top half of his suit, revealing scattered scrapes and bruises, the stomach wound, and two simple rings on a sturdy metal chain.

"Well, despite all the blood, it looks like it's already healed over enough that we won't have to cover it when you shower. Just be careful. Would you like us to call the rest of the group while you get cleaned up?" Luke finishes his examination and looks up, tilting his head in consideration and thoughtfully not mentioning the rings. Johnny blinks, then processes what has been said and shakes his head emphatically.

"No, I'll call later. I wasn't supposed to be out and about with this injury..." He lets the sentence hang, hoping that the two will fill in the blanks on their own. He needs them to get out so he can take stock of his situation and see if he can get a better idea about what is happening.

"Okay. We'll be in the living room. Take your time and get warmed up. You're still shivering." With that, they leave, closing the door behind them. Johnny blinks again. He hadn't realized how noticeably he was shivering. Ah well, nothing to be done about it now. Shaky with more than cold, he gingerly strips off the remainder of his suit and slips beneath the blessedly hot water.

He sighs, head down, just letting the water caress him. He soaks up the warmth his body is too weak to supply on its own. His fingers curl protectively around the rings: Sue and Reed's wedding rings. Reed had worn Sue's ring on a chain after… after the worst came to pass. He would never have taken it off unless he knew he wouldn't need it. And to give Johnny his own ring as well…

Eventually, the water begins to cool, and he is able to drag himself away from that line of thinking. Cautiously, he cleans himself off, steps out, dries himself off, and slips on the sweatpants that have been left for him.

The steam has fogged up the window, but Johnny is okay with that. First, he opens the first aid kit and takes care of the scrapes that are still there, smaller than they should be, but still there. Tugging on his t-shirt, he picks up his suit, wincing to see it still streaked with blood. He turns on the faucet and rinses out the dark stains in the sink. By the time he is done, the steam has faded from the mirror, and Johnny gets his first good look at himself since waking up.

He braces against the sink with one hand, the other rising to his face. His fingers brush the white line marring his forehead and interrupting his hairline. He is relieved to see it in a way, but shocked at its appearance. Where before it had crossed from beside his right eye to the top of his head, leaving a three-inch bald line, now it starts above his eye and comes to an end only an inch or so into his hairline.

He can still remember when it occurred, can still feel the metal slice through skin, into bone, can still recall how close he came to dying if not for Reed. He remembers the look on his sister's face and the gruff worry in Ben's tone when he woke up two days later.

The four of them had celebrated his recovery, an all out celebration that had them in stitches by the end. It is the last time Johnny can recall being truly happy, the last time he smiled and meant it.

The presence of this scar means he isn't going crazy. It also bolsters one of his crazy theories. His young face, the diminished scar; it all implies Reed's sent him back in time, maybe back to before he received the wound.

The brothers' questions lend even more credibility to this theory, if time travel can be a credible theory. They have asked about getting in touch with the rest of the Fantastic Four.

With his sister.

"Hey, are you okay in there?" Luke asks through the door, concerned at the length of time Johnny has spent in the bathroom. Clearing his throat, Johnny calls out that he is great and will be right out; he just needs a minute more.

He folds up his suit and heads into the living room where the two boys have prepared a simple meal for him. He is touched by the kind gesture, the likes of which he has not experienced for longer than he cares to admit.

"Thanks for all this. I don't want to trouble you."

"Oh, it's no problem, Mister Torch, no problem at all," Scott says enthusiastically, as he watches Johnny commence with the soup. Uncomfortable under their scrutiny, Johnny grasps for a way to distract himself.

"Um, I don't suppose you have today's paper by any chance."

"Of course we do. Would you like to see it?"

"I think that's why he asked, Scott. Why don't you go fetch it. It's on the table." Scott scurries quickly into the other room and is back before Johnny has managed another sip of soup.

"Thanks," Johnny says as he takes the paper, opening it up on his lap and immediately searching out the date. Not that he needs confirmation. But it is there nonetheless, in bold black and white: Monday, Nov. 23, 2011.

"Something wrong?" Scott questions softly. Johnny tears his gaze from the date and shakes his head, giving a small smile.

"Sorry, just thinking." They accept that, and Johnny goes back to the paper. He means to see which paper it is so he can better pinpoint his location, but the picture attached to the front page story catches his attention first.

It shows a building in ruins, flames reaching to the sky. A dark-haired man, watching from a safe distance, stands alone among a group of frightened children. Maybe the effects of Reed's machine or the images triggered by his earlier reflection in the mirror have made him vulnerable, but suddenly a memory, no longer fact, overcomes him.

The picture on the page shifts in his head to another scene, another building. This building is not on fire, but it is broken and on the verge of collapse as he hastens to rescue the children trapped inside.

* * *

_"Don't worry, I got you," Johnny speaks softly, maintaining his firm, yet gentle, grip on the little boy. He spares one glance for his sister, her hands up as she concentrates on holding the force field steady. She is bracing the building to give Johnny the time he needs to get the last of the kids outside to Reed, who waits with the children they have already rescued._

_ "That's it. We're almost there." The boy, who can't be more than eight, clings to his arm, trembling even more than the building around them. They are only twenty feet from the opening where Reed stands surrounded by the nine other children. Johnny feels it is twenty feet too far. _

_ "Reed, little help here," Johnny calls to his brother-in-law. Seconds later, two arms extend through the hole and hover. Speaking calm reassurances, Johnny lifts the boy and places him carefully into the waiting hands._

_ "Ben back?" The question breaks free without his approval._

_ "No, but he found the two boys and is headed back now." Reed's voice, clear and firm, reaches him almost immediately. Johnny nods once before slipping back into the ruined building._

_ "Sue, I need to make one more sweep," he shouts as he picks his way through the debris. Sue turns towards him and nods weakly; blood drips steadily from her nose. _

_ He moves as quickly as he can, double-checking the rooms that used to belong to the foster home. Finding them empty, he returns to his sister and gives the all clear._

_ He is nearly at her side when another explosion rips through the building. He hears his sister cry out as it flings him to the ground. He covers his head and forces himself to wait until no more debris is falling before he struggles to his knees. He immediately looks toward his sister. She has ended up on her knees as well, one slender hand splayed out on the floor beneath her, one trembling hand still focusing the force field above._

_ Her eyes seek his, find them, capture them. He _knows_._

_ "NO!" he shouts and pushes to his feet. She can't. He won't let her. He takes the first step toward her. Her lips part, and he reads the message he cannot hear. One more step. Only three more, and he will be at her side, and..._

_ She sweeps her upper arm in a wide downward arc. Johnny feels his feet leave the ground and his back strike the outer wall._

_ "Sue." The sound expels from him when he hits. The brief moment of disorientation is all that is needed for hands to wrap firmly around him and pull. The last image he has is his sister prone on the floor as the building finally collapses completely._

_ "SUE!" he shouts again, struggling at last as the dust begins to rise. He screams until he is hoarse, oblivious to the terrified, wide-eyed children as he fights to race back into the building. Strong arms quiver as they clutch him close. Even though tears stream without check down Reed's face, his voice never joins Johnny's._


	2. Rising

Okay, the second part as promised. I'm glad the first part was entertaining.

FantasticMe asked what happened to Reed. Well, he sent Johnny back in time and destroyed the machine after to prevent Doom or his men from following. Then, well, let's just say escape would have been miraculous.

And for Countdown, I hope I answer your question in this chapter.

Well, I hope everyone enjoys this final installment as well.

* * *

Johnny twitches perceptibly when he feels the hand on his shoulder. Drawing a deep breath, he pulls his eyes away from the picture and looks up into concerned brown eyes. The effort it takes to shake off the memory is monumental, but he manages and smiles in a belated attempt to erase any worry on the brother's part. Purposefully, he puts the paper aside.

"Sorry, I got caught up in the article," which, he surmises, isn't exactly a lie. Scott glances at the paper. Noting the headline, he nods his head in understanding before, to Johnny's relief, moving back to his seat and out of Johnny's personal space.

"That was a nasty accident. Gas line explosion at the elementary school. Three died, and a dozen more were injured. Could have been worse, though. Several of the classes were away that day on a field trip." Scott provides the information without prompting, and the two brothers wait as the Torch composes himself. He smiles at them and hastily finishes his meal. As he does so, he contemplates how to approach the topic he needs to address without raising any alarms with the good Samaritans.

"Look, uh, I wasn't supposed to be out today, especially with the …" He stops, indicating the side wound and allowing yet again for the two to come to their own conclusions. Besides, he isn't really lying. He shouldn't have been out today, since today is actually more than a few decades in the past.

"I'll need a more normal means of transportation to get back without getting in too tight a spot with my sister." He chokes a little on mentioning his sister, but the novelty of being around him has yet to wear off for the brothers, and neither of them notice.

"You could borrow our car."

"No, I couldn't take anything. I just need some information on the buses and trains. I'll get back easily enough." This is true as well. He has seen the name of the paper now and knows he is still in New York. So close, so very close.

"Or you could use our phone and call the rest of the team to pick you up." Luke indicates the phone with a hand, but Johnny shakes his head mulishly. He isn't resisting because he doesn't want to see them, but rather because he isn't sure if he should. He needs to figure out what has happened, and he needs to do this alone.

"I am going to get one hell of a lecture from Reed when he sees what I've managed to do to his handy work - me, that is. I'd like to put that off as long as possible. So, I just need the information, and I'll be on my way."

Luke relents, but with one condition. He will drive Johnny to the bus stop and stay with him until it is time to go. Scott wants to come, but the older brother can see that Johnny is not really in the proper state of mind to deal with a hyper fan and convinces Scott to stay behind.

The goodbyes are quick. Johnny resists his instinct to flinch when the boys get too close. Too many years on the run have led to a myriad of habits he is going to have to forget if he is going to get on with his life.

He makes sure to sit in the very back of the bus. He clutches the backpack the boys gave him so hard his knuckles turn white. He tries to think about what he should do now, about how he is going to ensure the future he has lived never comes to pass. Dark thoughts invade his mind instead.

Before he knows it, he is standing to exit the bus, to re-enter the hustle and bustle of a city he has already mourned. He steps off, takes two steps forward, and stops. Everything is so loud and bright. The cacophony of sound nearly overwhelms him, but it proves to him his city is _alive_. He closes his eyes and lets the sounds penetrate.

_My god, I forgot how crowded New York is,_ he thinks as he stands still in the middle of the sidewalk. People hurry past, taking no notice of him. He stays only a moment longer before turning silently on his heels toward a bistro he remembers should be just a few blocks away.

He pauses outside, taking a moment to secure the cap and jacket, hoping he looks sufficiently unlike himself to not attract any attention. Inside is warm and inviting, two things he is going to have to get used to experiencing again. He orders something, rushes to the table in back, and settles in. Now is the time to decide what he should do and admit what he is doing.

He is procrastinating.

He admits that. He even admits why.

He is afraid.

Afraid he will screw this up. Afraid finding Sue will undo him, and he will be unable to do anything but hold onto her and never let go. Afraid going to them will make the end come that much quicker. Afraid not going to them will bring the end. Just plain afraid.

_Remember._

Reed's final words to him echo back, but there is more to it than that. More than just remembering the terrible future he's lived through; more than recalling how lost and broken Reed was after Sue died; more than allowing the faces and names and lost places to float through his mind. So much more.

He pulls out the metal string, lightly tracing the gold bands it holds. The simple action calms him, and he breathes deeply, taking stock of himself.

He remembers some of the more interesting conversations he had with Reed. The ones that had nothing to do with Doom. Time travel had been a topic, though he never realized just how serious Reed had been. He should have, this _was_ Reed. Regardless of that folly Reed had been so sure that instead of ending up with two of the person, the future occupant would take over the past.

He hasn't completely merged with his past self; his hair and scars are proof of this. It will be impossible for Sue, Reed, and Ben not to notice, and, once they do, he will have to explain. There is no doubt in his mind they will believe him. He may be the jokester in the group, but he wouldn't joke about this. They know that.

No, their belief in him is not the issue. What they might do because they believe him is.

_Remember._

He does remember, and that is what scares him. He has witnessed what Doom is capable of doing. He remembers how the helplessness built up inside him each time they failed to stop him.

Failures that will not be repeated. Johnny Storm is going to see to that. He sits a little straighter when he states this. A silent vow he cannot break.

"Ben, Alicia. It's great to see you today. Would you like your usual table?" Sarah, the owner and head waitress, gushes as she greets the entering couple. Her chipper voice breaks Johnny's train of thought, but when he catches sight of exactly who has walked in, it derails completely.

He thinks he has stopped breathing because his chest constricts, and his grip on the table is turning his knuckles white again. It is too much. His half-finished meal forgotten, he stands as silently as he can and heads for the door, keeping to the wall whenever possible.

He makes it to the door and has taken one step outside when he hears her. Her voice is as sweet and smooth as he remembers. He can't help slowing up just enough to hear what she says.

"Johnny?"

"What?" This voice is gruff, like rocks grinding against each other. It is music to his ears.

"I think Johnny is here. Do you see him?"

Then he is out, around the corner, landing painfully on his knees, his arms wrapping around his torso, tears forming in his eyes. Too much. He was just starting to get a grip on everything, and now this. Age is definitely catching up to him, no matter that he once again looks under 30.

_He's alive._ He repeats the phrase in his mind, over and over as he rocks himself back and forth. He hopes he's gone far enough away. He doesn't want to be seen like this, not now. In an effort to ground himself, he reaches out blindly, his hand coming into contact with the rough brick of the building, dirt and grime adhering to its surface. He suddenly recalls another stone covered in grit.

It's happening again. He can feel himself falling back into a memory that is no longer real, just like when he saw that picture in the paper. He tries to fend it off, repeating over and over again _he's alive_. He conjures images of him smiling and happy with the women of his dreams, but it isn't working. This time, he thinks, he really can blame the machine Reed used; he never used to be an emotional wreck.

* * *

_"Johnny." Johnny looks up, blue eyes desolate. Reed sits down next to him, silent as he chooses his next words thoughtfully._

_ "I know this is hard Johnny, but there is nothing else I can try. Victor knew what he was doing. I…" He pauses. This is hard enough to admit to himself, let alone to his friend and brother. "I just don't have the equipment anymore. Maybe if…" He trails off. There is no reason to bring up what they both already know._

_ Johnny looks away. He doesn't smile much anymore. None of them do. What is happening today will not bring back the smile that used to be a permanent fixture on Johnny's face. Ben is the only one who can get a smile out of Johnny anymore. After Sue's death, 11 years prior, Johnny has lost his trademark sense of humor. _

_ Ben had found a nice secluded spot to bury her. It is a beautiful spot, next to a lake, halfway up a mountain, no chance of being discovered. Ben had found the headstone and shaped it carefully. Johnny had burned the inscription. Reed, who had seemed to have lost all will to live since his wife's death and hadn't spoken a word after pulling Johnny from that building, found something to live for the day they laid her to rest. Retribution. He'd lost the ability to cry, though. A fierce determination to succeed in honor of his wife became stronger than the heart-breaking grief._

_ Now he waits beside his brother, searching for the words to help Johnny with this latest blow. They aren't sure how Doom infected Ben, but however he did, the result is inescapable now._

_ "He wants to see you, has something to say." _

_ Johnny nods, not looking at Reed as he painfully pushes himself to his feet and turns to the door. Reed stands with him, waiting as the younger man pulls himself together and walks through the entryway._

_ Ben lays motionless on the bed. __His breathing is labored. Stone grating and catching against stone. Leaving less and less behind_. Johnny chokes back a sob. It isn't fair. They can't lose Ben like this, not after they've already lost Sue.

_ Ben's eyes are closed as Johnny sits in the chair next to the head of the bed. As Johnny sits down, Ben opens his eyes and turns his head just enough to be able to look at his friend._

_ "Hey Matchstick," Ben rasps._

_ "Hey Pebbles," Johnny returns miserably._

_ "Gotta say something to ya before it's too late." Ben moves his hand, and Johnny reflexively takes it in his. He cringes at the gritty feel of his friend's normally smooth, rocky exterior. Even as he watches, more orange sand flakes off, adding to what is already on the bed and floor._

_ It isn't even the right color, Johnny thinks dimly, looking everywhere but at his friend's face. The normally bright, vibrant orange is dulled, rusty red stains turning the overall hue coppery._

_ "Plenty of time, Ben. Plenty of time." _

_ "No, no there is not," Ben forces out, squeezing his friends hand. "Look at me kid."_

_ Reluctantly, Johnny complies. Ben manages a smile, a true smile despite the somber mood. Reed watches from the doorway, providing silent moral support._

_ "It's up to you now, kid. Someone has got to watch the egghead's back. I'm glad that it's you. Real glad." Ben trails off, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Guess you ended up in the Dynamic Duo after all." _

_ "Ben?" Johnny whispers when his friend doesn't continue. Brokenly, he repeats his friend's name, each time more frantically than the last when no response is forthcoming. He blinks back the tears that threaten to fall, calling out for Ben over and over again until a slim hand comes to rest on his shoulder, and a voice softly speaks his name._

_ The tears fall then, and he buries his face on the gritty chest that no longer moves. He ignores the feeling of sand as he sheds the tears he's held in since Sue. Reed says nothing, but stands by, his grip firm and solid and alive._

* * *

_Alive. He. Is. Alive._ He thinks the words slowly as he becomes aware of his surroundings once again. The grip on his shoulder is still there; he jerks away in alarm.

"Hey, take it easy man. You forgot your bag. Are you all right? Should I call someone? 911?" The speaker is the waiter from the bistro. Jeff, Johnny recalls sluggishly.

Johnny doesn't trust his voice, so he merely shakes his head, accepts the hand up, and retrieves his bag. Ben is nowhere in sight. It seems he has managed to avoid that scene. Shakily, he thanks the waiter and hurries off, anxious for some space to think.

He has come to a realization about what he has to do. Seeing Ben has confirmed his half-formed thoughts before he was fully conscious of them.

Reed rescued him from a tragic future, and he cannot let that future come to be. No matter what, he will not lose his family again. The world will not descend into despair.

He knows the others will help him if he asks, but he won't. Their involvement would change their behavior and complicate the timeline of events he remembers. Those memories are his best weapon. He dares not interfere with today's events until he knows exactly how to ensure them all a future together.

Johnny and Reed spent years piecing together the events leading to Doom's victory. There are a lot of things they never fully figured out, but it will have to be enough. He already has an idea. More than that, he has a purpose, a mission he must undertake.

And he must undertake it alone.

He will have to wait until tonight, when everyone has gone to sleep. The ideal time will be after 3am. It used to take that long for Sue to badger Reed into bed when he was working on a new project. Of course, it is completely possible he has no new project, only older ones to occupy him off and on. In that case, they will be in bed at a much more reasonable hour.

Johnny can't take any chances and decides to wait. He meanders closer to the Baxter building, but keeps his distance as he works through what he will need. He has to take into account that a significant portion of the inventions he remembers may very well not be completed or even started yet.

Sunlight gives way to streetlights, and the night life of New York City takes over. As midnight comes and goes, Johnny makes his way towards his old home, made new again. Sneaking into Reed's lab would be much harder if he hadn't learned how to successfully infiltrate Doom's positions without being caught so many times. He is in luck; the upper floors are silent.

He peruses the items in Reed's workspace with an experienced eye. As he expects, not all the inventions he remembers are there, but he does find the ones he feels are most crucial to his self-imposed mission. He may have made fun of how much of a geek Reed was, but in jest. He loves the guy as much as his sister does, and he is proud to call him his brother.

Johnny takes note of the time and moves back into the front foyer. He has what he needs, to start with anyway, and he can figure out what else he needs as he goes.

The soft backlights that Reed leaves on so no one will trip over anything are a comfort after everything, and Johnny stands alone in the one place he ever truly called home - at least, the only place with an address. When things got really bad in the future, any place they were together was home. He sighs. Apparently, he is getting melancholy in his old age.

He should go.

Really, he should. He has what he came for. The longer he stays, the more likely he will be discovered, which will screw up the plan he has just started to map out in his head. His fingers curl protectively around the rings he has been gifted, a solid reminder of why he is doing this. He knows he needs to go.

Instead, he stands still in the large foyer, the soft hum of Reed's electronics a soothing background he never realized he missed. He looks toward the hallway that leads to their room, longing pulling at him, logic warning him. Silently, he places the backpack down and heads toward her door.

He makes no sound as he walks. He has, after all, had plenty of practice over the years. When he gets to the door, he is pleased that, as usual, it remains slightly ajar. Sparing one glance at the foyer, he pushes cautiously. As the door swings noiselessly open, he steps up and peers into the room.

"Sue." Her name is a balm on his soul as he breathes out and leans into the door, not sure if it is exhaustion or relief sapping the strength from his limbs. She is facing away from him, her cheek pressed securely against Reed's arm, but Johnny can picture her face, see the soft smile she carries even in sleep. It is one of the things he has always loved about his sister, one of the things that always made him feel safe.

He watches her, memorizing her all over again before shifting his gaze to her husband, his brother. His breath catches at what he sees.

Reed has the same smile gracing his face, a peace and contentment relaxing his features in a way Johnny has all but forgotten.

Feeling abruptly like he is intruding, he slinks back, rubbing the heels of his hands over his eyes, fighting to keep them clear. He is ambling back the way he came, lost in his thoughts and new determinations.

"Where are you going, Tinkerbell?" The gruff question catches Johnny completely by surprise, and he whirls around to stare wide eyed at an annoyed Ben Grim.

"Uh, just out. Probably be gone a few days," he manages after a moment. He catches his hand twitching towards his friend, but pins it to his side. Johnny is suddenly very grateful for the low light and that he is still wearing the knitted cap because he would have had a hard time explaining his current hairstyle to Ben's satisfaction.

"Oh really," Ben starts, crossing his massive arms and glaring at Johnny. "That's what you said yesterday, and yet here you are."

"Oh yeah, well….I..forgot…a few things," Johnny mutters feebly, battling back the sting of tears that threaten to fall. _Oh god, I can't do this right now. I have to get out of here._ Johnny's mind races, memories and fears and long-forgotten hopes warring for his attention. It is too much. Far too much.

"Well, I gotta go. Things to do, places to be," he manages as cheerfully as he can around the lump in his throat. He backs a few steps away from Ben, watching his friend. He knows Ben won't leave this as is. Sure enough, he's only taken a few steps when Ben moves to intercept him. Johnny sees it coming. He dances out of the way, grabs his bag, and flees to the stairs.

He hears Ben shout after him and hopes his voice won't wake the others, though he is pretty sure it has. He makes it to the lobby in record time and races out the door, ignoring the startled greeting from the night doorman.

Once outside, he pulls up his hood to obscure his face, finds a dark space in a nearby alley, and turns to watch the entrance to the Baxter building. Ben appears sooner than he expects; for a two-ton rock, he is surprisingly quick on his feet. Ben stops just outside the doors and scans intently, the streetlights softening the edges of his body. Johnny leans even further into the brick wall next to him, willing himself not to move.

Sue and Reed appear next to Ben after only a few minutes. Seeing all three together nearly undoes his resolve, but then he remembers a solitary grave, words burned into the stone and only three witnesses; remembers the feel of solid stone turning to grit beneath his very fingertips; remembers the fiercely whispered words of his sole remaining family; and, finally, he turns away.

He hunches inward as he hurries down the street, keeping his head down and blinking furiously against the tears and the memories.

"Don't worry, Reed," he whispers into the darkness in answer to his brother's last request.

"I will."


End file.
